


Doubles

by princessjoey (fueledbyfemme)



Category: Fueled by Ramen, SWMRS
Genre: Angst, Cuddling, F/M, M/M, Marijuana, OH they hotbox the van, One Shot, Pining, Unrequited Love, and bully cole, bed sharing, dumb rich boy tears, excessive flower symbolism, i turned this in as part of my final, idk they also do laundry, jax - Freeform, joey is rly emo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fueledbyfemme/pseuds/princessjoey
Summary: Doubles. They always got doubles. Never separate rooms, or even twin beds. Joey couldn’t tell you why if you asked. It had always been that way—when you’ve known someone since your fourth birthday party, you just get comfortable with each other. In the rare event that they were forced to book separate rooms, they usually dragged their mattresses across the hall and slept together, or they found themselves tangled together in the middle of the night anyway.





	Doubles

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: i have never smoked before ever and i had to repeatedly ask my stoner friend for help writing that part, so shoutout to ray for being the bomb.com and not being too mean to me for not knowing anything about weed. 
> 
> also PS i turned this in as my final and the portal got updated so i assume its safe to post now. in the event that im wrong: mr g if ur reading this im so sorry

Doubles. They always got doubles. Never separate rooms, or even twin beds. Joey couldn’t tell you why if you asked. It had always been that way—when you’ve known someone since your fourth birthday party, you just get comfortable with each other. In the rare event that they were forced to book separate rooms, they usually dragged their mattresses across the hall and slept together, or they found themselves tangled together in the middle of the night anyway. 

Joey sat at the foot of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands folded, watching Max intently with dark eyes. Max yawned, oblivious to Joey’s gaze, stretching and rubbing sleep from his eyes, his shirt riding up in front to show a tiny slice of pale skin on his midriff. “Oakland” was scrawled across the white front in the jagged Sharpie lines of Max’s handwriting, the product of an impulsive DIY fashion project prompted by hours of unending travel. Max’s hair (usually meticulously combed back with pomade) was sleep-tousled, a soft blonde halo around his head. He looked like an angel, or as if he had stepped out of a painting by Titian or perhaps Botticelli. Joey ran a hand through his own hair, pushing his tangle of dark brown curls out of his eyes. The moment seemed suspended, moving slowly like molasses, or perhaps not at all, framed in the haze of not-quite-awake and blinking-off-dreams until—

It was broken by the sound of something heavy crashing to the thinly carpeted floor and a soft “Fuck.”  
Joey and Max turned to see Cole sprawled on the floor, chin-length dirty blond hair in his eyes, round pink sunglasses askew, wearing only a single burgundy Doc Marten on his right foot. The cheap hotel dresser laid overturned beside him, having joined him in his descent.

“Bro,” Sebastian said, emerging from the bathroom and taking in the scene. He rolled his eyes and helped Cole up, laughing good-naturedly. Joey felt the mattress dip as Cole sat down on the side of the bed. 

Max bent down and grabbed Cole’s left shoe by the laces, tossing it to him. Cole fumbled catching it, his face scrunched in quiet indignation and his cheeks reddening slightly.

Max’s mouth twitched. “Dude, how stoned are you?”

“Not at all,” Cole said dryly, and then added, “Unfortunately.”

Seb clapped a hand across Cole’s shoulders, squeezing him close. “Don’t worry, buddy,” he said. “We’re in fucking Colorado.”

Cole only replied with a smirk before bending over and yanking on his boot. 

“Speaking of which, are y’all ready to go, or…” Seb asked, making vague motions with his hands before running them through his bleached-blond hair. 

“I-I still gotta get dressed, ‘n’ so does Joey,” Max said, stifling another yawn as he walked to the bathroom.

Joey stood and made his way over to the disorganized pile of suitcases on the opposite side of the room, rifling through them. He pulled on a pair of jeans from his own bag and a gray hoodie from Seb’s before stumbling through the open bathroom door after Max. 

“So,” Max said, combing back his hair. “There’s this breakfast place down the block Seb and I really wanted to try, you on board?”

“Mhm,” Joey said around his toothbrush. 

“Great,” Max said. He stuck his head out the door. “Cole!” he called. “You headed to breakfast with us?”

“Yeah, sure,” Cole said, not looking up from meticulously cuffing his jeans.

“It’s gonna be so great, dude. They’ve got like, Mediterranean omelets and tons of…”

Joey gently bumped his hip against Max’s, pushing him out of the way of the sink. Max continued, unfazed, as Joey began to shave. “…Everything there is fair trade, you know? And…”

Joey watched Max apply moisturizer as he talked animatedly in the mirror, his blue eyes lit up with excitement. “…Anyway there’s all these gourmet coffees—”

“Are you guys like, done yet?” Seb interrupted, appearing in the doorway, paper cup of cheap hotel coffee steaming in one hand.

“Yeah,” Joey said, splashing water on his face. 

“Soon as I put decent clothes on, I’m good,” Max said.

“Dude, is that my shirt?” Seb asked Joey. 

“I didn’t have anything clean,” Joey said as he followed Seb out of the bathroom. 

“You can only borrow it if you give me back the last shirt you stole,” Seb said, setting his coffee down on the wobbly table. 

“Deal,” Joey said. He pulled Seb’s black and white flannel out of his bag and threw it at Seb, who caught it and pulled it on over his black tank top. 

Max appeared beside Joey, every inch of pale skin and toned muscle exposed save for black boxer briefs. He bent over and started to dig through his bag, humming softly to himself, before eventually settling on a black button-up and a blue sweater. 

“You wanna do laundry after breakfast? Y’know, before we smoke,” Seb asked. 

Joey pulled his eyes away from Max pulling black jeans over his hipbones and met Seb’s gaze. He nodded. 

“Great. I’m out of clean underwear,” Seb smirked. 

Joey rolled his eyes and turned to the tiny coffee machine sitting on the slightly wobbly table, still warm from when Seb had used it. He made himself a cup, and, after stirring in two powdered cream packets, grabbed a cardboard sleeve out of the tiny basket. 

They were all decorated with different symbols in black ink. Joey looked down at the one he had selected briefly before sliding it around his paper cup. It was a marigold. 

Joey grabbed another paper cup and filled it with boiling water—Max preferred tea, no milk or sugar. After examining the varieties in the little wicker basket, Joey chose a bag of rose hip tea and watched the red bleed out into the water. 

Joey handed him the cup of tea, and Max beamed at him.

“Aw, Joey,” he said, affectionately punching Joey in the arm. “You’re the best.”

Joey took a sip of his coffee and felt heat rise to his cheeks—it must be too hot.

“Alright, I’m good now,” Max said, straightening his collar as he made his way towards the door. “Let’s roll.”

Max made his way across the room to where Cole was sitting on the bed he shared with Seb, eyebrows knitted, intently typing something on his phone with one hand and sipping his paper cup of green tea with the other. 

“Time to go, lil bro,” Max said, playfully swatting Cole on the back of the head. 

Cole glared and punched Max in the arm before grabbing his pink baseball cap off the dresser and jamming it upon his head. The hat was another DIY project sparked by hours of boredom in the van—it read “Amerikkka was never great” in a Sharpie scribble on a white square of fabric safety-pinned above the brim of the cap. 

After making sure that one of them had the hotel room key, the boys piled into the hotel elevator, shoving each other good-naturedly.

Outside, as they were just beginning their walk to the breakfast place Max desperately wanted to try, Joey knocked Cole’s hat off his head. It caught the breeze and landed amongst the pink camellias outside the glass double doors of the hotel.

“Dude!” Cole said, snatching it back and returning it to his head. Max laughed in reply.

 

It took the quartet about four times as long as it should’ve to walk to get breakfast, mostly because partway through the walk Joey, Seb, and Max decided to start playing three-on-one keep-away tackle football with Cole’s hat. Regardless, thirty minutes and several grass stains later, they were seated at an outdoor table. A vase of daffodils sat in the center, beside the salt and pepper shakers, napkin dispenser, and tiny individual containers of condiments, sugar, and coffee creamer. 

It also took much longer than it should’ve to order anything, mostly because Seb was unsuccessfully flirting with the waitress. They all ordered expensive coffees: Max ordered toffee flavored, Cole ordered some ungodly mixture of four different syrups, and Seb ordered raspberry (“With extra sugar, sugar”). Joey thought he ordered caramel, but he hadn’t been paying much attention. He stared blankly at the menu, resting his chin on his hand, as the other boys debated what they wanted to try. 

Shortly thereafter, they received their coffee and ordered their food while the waitress pointedly avoided eye contact with Sebastian.

Max and Cole began a very animated and slightly pretentious debate about the musical style of the Kooks, and Seb was making eyes at the waitress every time she passed by. Joey’s coffee was too hot to drink, and after burning his tongue, he removed a daffodil from its ceramic vase and began to twirl it between his fingers absentmindedly as he waited for his food—which wasn’t very long. 

The food was as good as Max expected. Seb had apparently given up on the waitress and joined Cole and Max’s banter, which had now drifted to discussing the Buzzcocks. 

Cole exclaimed, “I’m telling you, man, it’s—! “

Whatever “it” was that Cole was about to reveal about the Buzzcocks, Joey didn’t know, because Cole was abruptly cut off by the sound of Max’s phone ringing. Max hastily removed it from his pocket.

“Oh!” Max said. “It’s Michelle, I’ll be right back.” He ducked away from the table to stand over by the fence, near some yellow rose bushes. 

Joey violently stabbed his eggs with a fork. The resulting scrape of metal against ceramic caused Seb to cast a glance in his direction, and so Joey quickly busied himself with sipping his caramel-flavored coffee, staring at Max over the blue rim of his mug. 

“What’s up, baby? I miss you,” Joey heard him say, a smile playing on his rosebud lips.

Max held his phone to his ear with one hand and ran the other through his hair. Standing amongst the yellow roses, perfectly poised in contrapposto, he looked like a statue in the garden of Versailles. They had seen Versailles together, once. It was two years ago, over spring break. Joey had been nineteen, and Max had been twenty-one. The four toured Europe together, and when it came time to visit Versailles, Cole had gotten really bad food poisoning from some local cuisine—undercooked duck, to be exact— and Seb had volunteered to stay behind at the hotel with him. Max and Joey went and saw Versailles together, ditching their guided tour group to leisurely wander the rooms and gardens alone. 

Joey’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted by Cole leaning across the table and stealing a bit of pancake off of his plate.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Joey said, rolling his eyes. “You have your own food!”

“Tastes better if it’s not mine,” Cole said, his mouth full.

“He’s got a point, bro,” Seb said, leaning across and taking a piece for himself. 

Joey stole a strip of bacon of Seb’s plate in retaliation, just as Max returned to the table. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, flashing a smile. 

“How’s Michelle?” Cole asked. 

“She’s good, yeah, she-she misses me,” Max said. “I miss her.”

Joey pushed a bite-sized portion of pancake around his plate in silence.

“Anyway,” Max said. “What was I saying? Oh yeah. Pete Shelley’s vocal range is— “

Max and Cole resumed their bickering as they finished their meal. Joey continued to push his breakfast around his plate for a while, making a few feeble attempts to choke down more pancake before he decided that his appetite wasn’t going to come back. The other boys experienced no such affliction—Seb in particular ate with the fervor of a starved wild animal. 

After they had finished their food and taken care of the bill (the generous tip they left included Seb’s phone number), the group decided against going back to the hotel. It was scheduled to rain later that day, so they elected to spend the rest of the morning wandering about, exploring the city and stopping in a few little shops—Cole bought a ridiculous looking necklace, which was composed of a fake gold marijuana leaf hanging from a matching chain, and Max picked up something from a tiny used bookstore to read in the van the next day.

 

When the group returned to the hotel a few hours later, they did absolutely nothing productive for another hour or so: they laid about watching television, bickering good-naturedly, and playing on their phones. When it grew close to noon, Max suggested that they venture back out into the city for lunch. 

“Oh, fuck,” Joey said. “Seb and I meant to get some laundry done.”

“Shit, I probably need to do that too.” Max said. 

“It’s okay,” Joey said. “I can do yours for you.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” Joey said. “I can do Cole’s, too. You two can get us all takeout or something.”

“Dude, what would I do without you?” Max said, grinning broadly. 

“Y-yeah, man,” Joey replied, his smile faltering briefly. His gaze fell to his hands and he began to pick at his cuticles. “No problem. I’ll-I’ll just grab it out of your suitcases, then?” 

“Thank you so much. You’re literally, like, the best,” Max said. “What do you want for lunch? I’ll let you pick.”

Joey shrugged and pushed a few dark curls out of his eyes, only for them to fall back into place. “I saw a Chinese place not too far away,” he suggested. “Maybe like, a couple blocks.”

“Sounds good to me,” Max said. He turned to Cole and Seb. “Chinese okay with you?”

They murmured their assent. Joey walked over to the suitcases and began to search for the laundry bags. 

“Seb!” he called. 

“What?” Seb replied. 

“Help me with laundry, dude, stop laying around,” Joey said playfully, tossing Cole’s bag towards where Seb lay on the bed. It landed on his stomach, and Seb let out a dramatic groan. He rose to his feet, trailing the bag behind him, and dug his own sack of laundry out of the suitcases. 

“You’ll be in the basement, right?” Max said. Joey nodded. 

“We’ll just come find you,” Max replied before he and Cole departed. 

Joey finally located his own laundry bag amongst the mess in his own suitcase. Seb and Joey made their way into the basement. The elevator was broken, so they instead descended the stairs—slowly, as they were laden down by laundry bags that barely fit in the narrow hall. Seb eventually gave up, and, after checking to insure there was no passerby below, chucked his off of the railing. The bags landed with two soft thwumps. Joey followed suit, and then the pair raced down the stairwell. 

Joey reached the laundry room first, and began to sort the four bags into three piles as Seb dug in his pockets for quarters. There was nobody else in the laundry room, and so Joey didn’t feel bad about using three machines at once. Before he could start the machines, however, Seb stripped off his flannel, tank top, and jeans.

“Dude, seriously?” Joey asked as Seb dumped them in with the rest of the dirty clothes.

“Bro, if I don’t wash those jeans now, I won’t wash them for the rest of the summer. And I wear them every day,” he replied. 

Joey rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue— Seb had a point. He poured detergent in and playfully snatched the quarters out of Seb’s hand. Seb snatched them back, pushing Joey in retaliation, and started the machine himself. 

The two rough-housed good-naturedly for a while until they were interrupted by a woman entering the laundry room, a small child trailing behind her. Joey and Seb froze.

She took one look at the pair—Joey against a dryer, curls tousled, hoodie half pulled off, one hand wrapped around Seb’s fist, stopping a mock-punch in midair; Seb, clad only in green plaid boxers with his hairy chest and lily-white skin displayed proudly, forearm up against Joey’s chest, pinning him to a dryer. 

“Uh, hi,” Joey said as Seb released him. Seb lost his balance and fell against another dryer with a thud, grabbing onto the door handle for support and collapsing to the floor in a sprawl as it flew open under his weight. 

The woman made a noise of disgust and backed out of the room, yanking her child behind her. The door closed ominously, and Joey helped Seb to his feet. 

“Well, Sebastian,” Joey said as he sat down on the bench. “Guess it’s time to wait for the manager to come down and tell us that we’re being kicked out because someone complained.”

“Whoops,” Seb said sheepishly, taking a seat beside Joey. 

The manager never came, however— not even after the machines buzzed and Joey and Seb switched loads. Joey watched the clothes spin round and round, lost in thought, as Seb sat beside him, playing on his phone, the silence between them filled only by the mechanical sounds of the three dryers. 

After a long time, the dryer beeped, interrupting the tedium. Joey and Seb stood and began to remove clothes from the dryers. 

“Hey man, I meant to say something earlier, but like…Are you feeling okay today?” Seb asked as they began to fold clothes into neat piles on the table. “You seem a little out of it.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t sleep that much last night,” Joey said, starting to fold one of Max’s small t-shirts. It was true—he hadn’t been sleeping much at all lately. 

Seb looked at him with concern, and Joey quickly flashed a smile before saying, “That or the Del Taco from last night.”

Seb laughed. “Like Canada all over again, bro—except it’s you this time.”

Joey’s face split into a smile as he remembered Versailles. “Oh, dude, or that time in France when Cole got sick off the duck— “

“Shit, man, that was so gnarly, you and Max don’t even know the half of it; I had to stay in that awful hotel room as Cole fuckin’—” Seb was cut off by the door to the basement laundry bursting open. Max swaggered in, with Cole trailing behind him carrying two large bags of Chinese take-out.

“We come bearing gifts.” Max said, smiling broadly. 

“I come bearing gifts.” Cole corrected, setting the bags down on the bench.

Seb tore into the bag and cracked open a box of orange chicken as Max did likewise with a container of dumplings.

“Are we allowed to eat in here?” Cole inquired. 

“Who cares, dude,” Seb said as he rummaged through the bag in search of a plastic fork. Cole shrugged and grabbed a container of fried rice from the second bag, as Joey reached around him and extracted a box of beef stir fry. 

“Seb already got naked and scared a lady and we didn’t get in trouble for that, so I doubt anyone will stop us,” Joey said. 

“Hey, I was wearing boxers!” Seb protested. 

“Speaking of which, dude, why are you still in your underwear? Your clothes are dry,” Joey pointed out. 

“What can I say, I’m a free man,” Seb said. Despite his proclamation, he walked over to the clothes-laden table and pulled on his jeans and tank top back on before returning to the table. 

“So I was thinking,” Cole said in between bites. “We could chill at the hotel, you and Max could watch some terrible reality television, Seb and I could paint each other’s nails, and then we’d hit up the nearest dispensary and really enjoy Colorado.”

Joey shrugged nonchalantly. “Sounds good to me.”

Seb nodded, cheeks stuffed with orange chicken. 

 

Around thirty minutes later, Seb sat cross-legged on their hotel room floor, with Cole lying on his stomach beside him, feet kicking leisurely in the air. The bag of nail polish lay on the floor beside them, its contents scattered across the thin hotel carpet. Seb’s left wrist was held by Cole, who was painstakingly applying black nail polish onto Seb’s left hand, having already finished his right. Max and Joey lay on the pristine white hotel sheets, watching the worst possible reality TV show they had been able to find on the hotel television. “Dating Naked” it was called, complete with badly cut footage, cheesy music, poor acting, and all. 

Cole shifted into a sitting position.

“Done,” he said, smiling broadly. 

Seb held his hand up to the light, admiring his freshly-manicured nails. 

“Dude,” he said. “As soon as mine are dry, I’ll paint yours.”

Cole nodded and examined the array of polish colors for a moment before selecting two different glitter polishes in baby pink and blue. 

He held them up. “Can you do mine like, alternating?”

“Sure,” Seb replied.

The couple onscreen began to get naked on a beach, genitals pixelated out, before cutting to a close up shot of the woman being interviewed. 

“Wow,” she said. “I really can’t wait to see what’s under his— “

“Dude, this is so fucking ridiculous,” Joey said through giggles. 

Max laughed and turned to him, his eyes lit up with amusement. They were blue—a clear, soft blue, specifically. Sun-bleached cornflower blue. Blue like the polish Seb was delicately applying to Cole’s pinky fingernail. 

 

Several hours later, Joey sat on the bench outside of the dispensary, waiting for Cole to return, with Max sitting beside him, and Seb pacing on the sidewalk. They had all already made their purchases, but Cole had needed to go to the bathroom, and then he had gotten distracted. 

Joey kicked a rock absentmindedly, and Seb kicked it back. They remained occupied with playing until Joey kicked too hard and the rock sailed into traffic. 

Seb began to search for a new rock. As he did so, Joey began to pull up grass from beneath the bench and sprinkle it on Max’s head.

“Dude!” Max said, shaking it out of his hair and then returning the favor. 

This continued until Joey plucked a white carnation from behind the bench. 

“For you,” he said, tucking it behind Max’s ear.

Max bent down and picked a yellow carnation, tucking it behind Joey’s ear in return. 

“And you,” he said, smiling. 

It began to rain—a light cascade that began to give everything the shine of morning dew. Seb swore quietly and ducked under the overhang of the dispensary. Joey watched a raindrop gather upon a green carnation, slide down a singular petal, and splash to the concrete, like a tear falling from a cheek. He bent down and picked it, tucking it into the hole in his sweatshirt that once held the now-absent drawstring. 

“Losers!” Cole suddenly called by way of greeting as he exited the door to the dispensary, brown paper bag held high. 

“Took you long enough,” Joey said, rising to his feet with his own paper bag clutched in his left hand. 

Seb darted from his shelter beneath the building’s overhang and jumped in the driver’s seat of the van, while Cole and Max both attempted to call shotgun. Cole won the brief squabble that ensued, and so Joey and Max climbed into the back together. 

“Straight back to the hotel?” Seb inquired. “Or do you wanna stop somewhere for a snack when the munchies set in?”

“Nah,” Cole said, pulling a lighter out of the right hand pocket of his maroon cardigan. “We can just get room service back at the hotel.”

“I second that,” Max said as Cole held the lighter to his joint.

“Joey, you cool with that?” Seb asked. 

Joey watched Max hold out his hand, palm facing upwards, for Cole’s lighter. “Yeah man,” he said. “I’m cool with that.”

“Great.” Seb said. 

Max lit up and when he passed Joey the lighter, he held on a millisecond too long. After Joey was finished using it, he threw the lighter at Cole’s head. 

“Asshole!” Cole muttered, stuffing it back into his pocket and passing the joint to Seb. He began to play with the radio, and, upon being unable to find anything that he liked, plugged his phone into the aux cord. His first selection was something by The Replacements— Joey was pretty sure it was “Little Mascara”. Seb objected to this, but Cole told him to fuck off. 

Seb was clearly deciding to take the scenic route back to the hotel—they drove around for quite some time, listening to Cole’s favorite garage rock bands. 

Max laid back, placing his head on Joey’s thick thighs, and stared out the window at the red-swirled sky just as FIDLAR’s “40oz on Repeat” began to play. Joey absentmindedly brushed a few locks of fine blond hair off Max’s forehead before gently resting his hand on the smaller boy’s midsection. 

“Dude,” Max said, taking another hit. “I love all you guys,” He said, stretching like a cat in Joey’s lap and making a soft, happy noise. “I love you so much.”

“Yeah bro, same,” Cole said from the seat ahead. “I love you.”

“Love you too, man,” Seb said. 

Joey met Max’s gaze. Max smiled, wide and contented, his red-rimmed eyes just slits from his blissed-out state. 

Joey’s voice cracked. “I love you too, dude.”

He felt his eyes sting and closed them, leaning back against the headrest.

“C-Can we open a window?” he said. 

Cole obliged, but Seb protested, “Dude, I wanted to hotbox!” 

“The smoke’s making me tear up,” Joey said. 

“Such a baby,” Seb said. He stuck his tongue out at Joey, but didn’t protest any further. 

Seb reached a stoplight, and Joey gazed out the window. A large, colorful mural was painted on the side of an otherwise bleak cement building—it depicted a bouquet of white and yellow tulips tied together with a blue ribbon. The rain made the painting glisten, as if the petals were coated in morning dew. 

“Look,” Joey said, pointing at the tulips. “’S pretty.”

Seb swore under his breath, muttering something about wishing he had brought his camera. Cole snapped a photo with his phone and promised to send it to Sebastian. Seb lamented, “But Cole, it’s not the same!” but seemed otherwise placated. 

Joey glanced down at Max. He exhaled, smoke falling from his pink, slightly chapped lips like a whisper. The setting sun cast a yellow-chrysanthemum glow across his just-barely-flushed skin. His eyes were closed, blonde lashes catching the sunbeams and glowing against his smooth skin, his thin, soft fingers curled around the joint. Max’s hands looked so small and pale in comparison to Joey’s larger, darker hands—he was beautiful, immaculate. Max was fucking marble molded by Michelangelo himself.

Because everybody’s got somebody. Everybody but me. Zac Carper’s voice whined from the car stereo. Joey felt his lips pull into an involuntary smirk, as if in bitter agreement. Why can’t anybody just tell me that I’m somebody’s?

 

Cole dialed room service nearly the second they got back to the hotel. 

“Uh. Yeah. The nachos,” Joey heard him say. “Could you like, put extra guacamole on them? Thank you.”

Cole put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Do you guys want anything else?” 

Joey shrugged, but Seb began rattling off a list of foods such as pizza, beer, and soft pretzels with cheese dip.

“You sure you don’t want anything, Joey?” Cole asked. 

Joey mumbled that he didn’t care as long as it was sweet, and Cole repeated his answer into the phone, and then clarified with “Okay yeah, the cake. Go with that.”

“Max?” Cole asked, glancing over at his brother, who was lying on the bed. 

“Pasta, please. I don’t care what. Oh, and garlic bread,” Max said. Cole relayed his order and then hung up.

As they waited for the room service to arrive, Joey made his way over to the window and, upon noticing that the rain had ceased, opened it. He carefully removed the screen, set it against the wall beside the curtain, placed his forearms on the sill, and leaned out, staring up at the crepuscule sky, moon barely shining through the rainclouds and city-smog that hid every last one of the stars. A box of gardenias hung from the sill, shining from the earlier rain and sparkling in the dim light provided by the nearby streetlights, neon signs, and traffic rushing below. As Cole and Seb bickered over who got to shower first, Max walked toward the door and placed one perfect hand on the knob.

“I’m gonna go call Michelle, let her know we made it to the hotel safe,” he said. “Come find me if the food gets here before I come back.”

“Okay,” Joey said listlessly as Max stepped into the hallway. Joey propped his chin on his elbow and ran his fingers absentmindedly across the petals of the gardenias, lost in thought. He sat like that for a long while—so long that he watched the bus come and go from the stop below the window twice. He was only shaken out of his trance by the sound of Seb (he must’ve lost the shower argument) answering the door and thanking the maid for bringing food. He set the tray down on the table and fiddled with the dishes for a moment before approaching Joey. 

“Dude, you still seem really down, and you’re high,” he said. Joey shrugged.

Seb turned and offered him a beer, ice cold and slick with condensation. “Maybe this’ll help you relax a little?” 

Joey accepted and took a sip. “I’m fine, man,” he said. 

“Joey,” Seb said. “if anything’s bothering you, just let me know,” he paused for a beat before adding, “Anytime, man. I’m serious.”

“Dude. Really. I’m fine,” Joey replied. “Just tired.”

Seb cocked an eyebrow. Joey knew Seb didn’t believe him, but he dropped the subject anyway. For that, Joey was grateful. 

“Did they say when the room service would come?” Joey asked, changing the subject.

“No idea, you’d have to ask C—” Just as Seb said this, the bathroom door opened, revealing Cole, plaid pajama pants slung low on his hips and his soft stomach visible. 

“Speak of the devil and he appears!” Seb said, grinning. “When’s the food coming?”

Cole rolled his eyes and made his way toward the nachos. “No idea. Also, it’s your turn in the shower. Unless Joey wants to throw down for it.”

Joey shook his head. “I’m good,” he replied.

Seb bounded into the bathroom, and, almost just as the bathroom door closed, another opened and Max stepped into the hotel room. 

“God, you were on the phone with Michelle that whole time?” Cole said. 

“I miss her, Cole.” Max said. Joey dropped his head, going back to playing with the petals of the gardenias in between sips of his beer. Max’s eyes fell on the platter of food. 

“Aw, I told you guys to come get me when it came! Has it been long?” he asked as he grabbed his spaghetti and filled a plate with garlic bread before taking a seat.

“I was in the shower. And it’s not cold yet.” Cole said. 

Joey shrugged. “I forgot,” he said. 

“C’mon Joey,” Max said, patting the spot beside him on the bed. “Eat something.”

Joey reluctantly sat down beside Max, grabbing a slice of pizza off the tray as he did so. The trio sat in silence for a while, too busy eating to make conversation.

“God, this tastes so good,” Max said. “Try some.” He offered Joey a slice of his garlic bread and Joey accepted, his fingers brushing against Max’s. He looked at Max for just a little too long; an awkward pause rose between the two, and Joey quickly searched for something to say in order to break the tension. Fortunately, a distraction arrived, in the form of Seb.

He opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out, entirely naked save for a smattering of water droplets and the thin hotel towel wrapped around his narrow waist, nearly the exact same color as his skin. Joey thought that he resembled one of the rain-kissed white gardenias in the window box. He swaggered over to the piles of fresh laundry and tugged on a pair of black sweatpants before tossing his towel back into the bathroom. 

Max turned to Joey. “Is it cool if I shower, or do you wanna?” he asked.

“Yeah, man. I’m cool with whatever—” Joey coughed and took a sip of his beer. He must’ve swallowed wrong. “Whatever you want,” he finished. 

Max stood, ruffling Joey’s curls. “Thanks, dude.”

“Are you done?” Cole called as he walked into the bathroom. “Like, can we clean up?”

“Yeah,” Max called behind him. Cole piled his dishes onto the tray and climbed into bed, book laid across his knees. Seb finished his pretzels and then, after a second trip into the bathroom to brush his teeth, followed suit. Joey cleaned up and set the tray outside of the hotel room door, before returning to his spot at the open window to watch traffic and finish his beer beside the gardenias. 

 

Joey spent a very, very long time in the shower, letting the hot water run across his skin and listening to some of the sadder playlists on Max’s Spotify account. By the time he stumbled out of the bathroom nearly an hour and a half later, the other three boys had turned out the lights and set the alarms for the next morning. Seb and Cole were passed out together in one bed, and Max alone in the other. 

Joey plugged his phone in on the bedside table, the screen lighting up and casting a soft, bluish glow across Max’s features—damp blonde hair splayed across the white pillow, one hand curled underneath his pale cheek, soft pink lips parted slightly. 

Angel. Titian. Botticelli. Versailles. Michelangelo. 

Joey pulled back the covers and climbed into bed beside Max, watching Seb sleep on his side not five feet from him—black mask over his eyes, mouth open, hand dangling from the side of the bed and black polished nails twitching slightly. Seb snored, and Cole tended to talk and whimper in his sleep, but somehow, both were softer than the sounds of Max breathing. Sleep wouldn’t come for Joey. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of the hotel air conditioner whirring, occasional footsteps in the hallway, and the music of the other boys dreaming. 

Just as Joey thought he was starting to drift away, finally shut off his brain, he heard two soft buzzes in quick succession and artificial light illuminated the white ceiling. Joey sat up and leaned across Max to put the phone on silent. As he did so, his eyes couldn’t help but fall upon the screen—it was Max’s phone. 

The clock read 3:53 AM. Below that were two push notifications. 

Michelle: Goodnight

Michelle: I love you, too. 

Joey flicked the phone on silent and placed it face down on the table, feeling his eyes sting. He needed to sleep. As he laid back down, Max shifted, burrowing down into the blankets and snuggling against Joey. Joey automatically placed an arm across Max, who relaxed and grew still in response to the protective feel of Joey’s arm. 

Doubles. They always got doubles. And somehow, it was worse that way.

**Author's Note:**

> I know nobody is fluent in the language of flowers, but their meanings are pretty significant in the story. so here's a cheat sheet of what all the flowers mentioned mean!!  
> Marigolds- Grief, Jealousy  
> Red Roses- Love  
> Pink Camellias- Longing  
> Daffodils- Unrequited love  
> Yellow Roses- Friendship, a broken heart, jealousy  
> Cornflowers- Worn by young men in love. If the flowers faded too quickly it meant their love was unrequited.  
> White Carnations- Pure love  
> Yellow Carnations- Rejection  
> Green Carnations- During the Victorian era, green symbolized homosexuality; Oscar Wilde often pinned a green carnation to his lapel and popularized its use as a gay symbol.  
> White Tulips- One-sided love  
> Yellow Tulips- Hopeless love  
> Yellow Chrysanthemums- Precious one  
> Gardenias- Secret love
> 
> anyway......ya. i hope u liked it!!
> 
> UPDATE 5/18/17: mr g gave me the story with commentary yesterday and this was his final comment: "Powerful closing line. You capture the stupidity and homoerotic subtext of "bro" culture well. Joey's desire for Max is both subtle + obvious, like a real life crush."


End file.
